Syncretism
by HeartbrokenMisadventure
Summary: Wherein Loki gets into a fight with Doom and Amora, looses his memories, and has to stay in the Avengers mansion for safety. Contains eventual Tony Loki slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: **The rating is subject to change. Right now, it's rated T just to be safe. Also, you can leave comments on my writing Tumblr, which is linked in my profile.

**Over all warnings: **Cursing, Violence, Homosexuality (kissing, groping,)

**Warnings for this chapter: **None

It was chaos. The Doombots were easy enough to get rid of, but there just so many. There had to be over a thousand of them, and their only goal seemed to be to keep the Avengers away from the aerial battle. And they were doing a pretty good job.

Tony couldn't understand what had even caused all this. While the "super-villains" had often skirmished with each other publicly, this was like nothing Tony had ever seen. For starters, the fight hadn't started until after the Avengers had shown up. For another, this was more than just a skirmish, or a fight. This was full-blown war between von Doom, Amora, and Loki.

Tony had gotten the order from Fury that a bunch of Doombots were rampaging through the city. Tony, being closest, had been sent out. When he arrived, he found twenty bots destroying things randomly. One flipped an empty car. Another dissembled a fountain. They weren't really causing any harm, but they were a nuisance just the same. Tony shot a couple of blasts at them, but that didn't seem to even phase them.

And then, suddenly, Amora, Doom and Loki were in the air. Tony immediately called for back-up, fully expecting to be dead by the time anyone got there. But the trio didn't seem interested in him. Amora – shockingly without Skurge – and Doom were both facing Loki, who looked as he were using every once of strength to stay in the air.

Loki was a sight to behold. His hair, normally swept neatly away from his face, hung in disarray, lank and tangled, around his head. His normally clear, pale skin was marred with bruises, gashes, and black smudges. His clothes, normally all pristine leather and metal, were torn, hanging in shreds around his body. He was skinny – too skinny – almost skeletal like, all jutting bones, and sunken cheeks. It was eerie, shocking, and it caused Tony to pause for a moment. Loki hadn't looked like that the last time they'd fought.

At that point, the trio didn't appear to be doing anything more than talking. But Tony was too far away, and their voices were too soft for him to hear anything.

Tony Stark was not a man who scared easily. But the sight of the three "villains" just floating in mid-air while the Doombots wreaked havoc unnerved him. Why weren't they doing anything? Why hadn't they come after him?

The Avengers came quickly, and that's when it all went to hell. The twenty bots – prompted by Tony didn't even know what – rushed the group. It confused Tony. Surely Doctor Doom didn't think he was going to take them all out with just twenty Doombots? He snuck a glance at the floating man – still speaking to Amora and Loki – only to have his attention diverted by the sight of a flood of bots appearing for seemingly thin air.

Out of nowhere, a fight between Amora, Doom, and Loki broke out. Or, rather, a fight that consisted of Amora and Doom tag-teaming against Loki. Despite how weak he looked, Loki held his own for a little while. He dodged, twisted, turned. He bent himself into impossible maneuvers to avoid the magic shooting towards him.

But it wasn't enough.

Amora let loose a high pitched cackle, pulling Tony's attention from the tide of bots. He turned just in time to see her blast Loki out of the air. The god flew backwards, and fell, tumbling head over heels. Unable to right himself, he smacked into the ground. After a few moments, his limp body rose slowly into the air.

Tony batted away another feeble attempt at another bot's attack. He found himself unable to look away from the eerie sight of Loki hanging in midair. He knew he should – the his life, and the lives of his friends depending on him paying attention to the Doombot army. They were what was important. The battle in the sky wasn't a danger to him right now. But he could not look away.

Which turned out to be a good thing.

"Um, guys? Problem."

"Ya' think?" Clint spat, warding off another bot.

"Yeah. Doom has Loki's staff."

"What?" Thor bellowed, moving into Tony's line of sight, red hair wild around his face.

"What the hell is going on?" Fury demanded.

"Good question."

"Well," Doom's voice boomed outward, filled with undisguised glee. "You seem a little off today, Loki. You could have at least tried to put up a fight." He twitched the staff, causing Loki to jerk around in the air.

"Loki..." Thor's voice was strained. He moved forward, toward his brother, almost unconsciously, but another swarm of bots surrounded him.

Tony had thought Loki had been knocked unconscious when he'd hit the ground, but apparently not because he raised his head and looked straight and Doom and Amora. He must have said something because Doom laughed.

"Oh, no," Amora said sweetly. "No, no no, no, Trickster. Killing you won't be enough."

Beside, Thor was going crazy, taking out heaps of bots with a single sweep of his hammer. But it was no use. More and more bots kept coming.

Amora was floating around Loki now, throwing taunts, occasionally shooting him with blasts from the staff. Tony had been blasted enough with that staff to know that it hurt like hell, but not once did Loki cry out.

When she was behind him, she floating closer, extending the staff so it touched his back. He glowed for a moment, an odd, bright, yellow-green glow. Then, Amora blasted him again, sending him careening straight into Doom. The sorcerer grabbed his shoulders harshly, and brought Loki very close to his face.

"Loki Laufeyson," Doom's voice boomed outward again. "God of Mischief and Lies. Trickster. You thought yourself powerful. Look at you now! Beaten. Bound. Let us see your power now!"

And then, he let go.

Time seemed suspended. There was no sound, no movement except for Loki's falling, flailing body. Even the bots had frozen.

Loki hit the concrete, less than ten feet away, with a sickening thud that Tony didn't think he would ever forget.

Thor lost it. He swung his hammer upward, lifting him off the ground, into the sky, inhumane bellows ripping out of his throat. He aimed straight for Doom.

"Fuck," Clint swore. His voice held less bravado than normal.

Tony turned his head, taking in the sight of his friends. Clint was covered in various gashes and bruises, but nothing that looked life-threatening. Steve was breathing heavy, cradling his left arm close to his chest, but didn't seem injured beyond that. Hulk seemed uninjured, but was covered in black grease. Natasha seemed somehow both uninjured and clean. Her head was tilted up, watching the new battle in the air.

"Amora's fighting Thor now, too." Her voice was steady, calm, and it brought Tony away from the images of falling, twisted bodies. "Go help him, Iron Man."

Tony didn't need telling twice.

He zoomed up and over, shooting a blast at the sorceress to catch her attention. But he missed, hitting the staff in front of her. He expected the blast to bounce back, like usual. Instead, it hit the staff straight on, snapping it. There was a white light that exploded outward, engulfing everything.

The sound of the explosion hadn't even reached Tony's ears before he was knocked unconscious.

When Tony came too, he expected to feel the cool hardness of his helmet, to smell burning rubber, to hear screams. Instead, he heard nothing, smelled nothing, and the warmth, softness, and comfort caused him to open his eyes and see where he was.

Coulson was standing at the foot of his bead.

"I've died and gone to heaven, haven't I?" Oh. Speaking hurt.

Coulson gave a ghost of a smile. Had Tony been that bad off? "Haven't reached heaven yet. Your judge hasn't arrived."

There must have been some secret button that Coulson pushed, because Fury was suddenly walking into the room.

"Glad to see you're awake."

"Glad to see I'm alive."

"That too."

Tony tried to sit up, ignoring the pain in his head. "What happened?"

"You got lucky," Fury said grimly. "The explosion and-or fall should have killed you, even in the suit."

"Everyone...?"

"Amora's dead." There was no emotion in the Director's voice. "We're pretty sure she was killed instantly. Doom's disappeared. Banner and Rodgers are alive. Clint is still in the hospital, but he'll be fine. He's already heckling the nurses. Thor was laid up for a few days, but he's still not a hundred percent."

"What happened?" he asked again, knowing Fury would know the difference in the similar questions.

Coulson answered, "We're not entirely sure. Doom and Amora went after Loki, but they wanted the Avengers there to see the fight – the Doombot's orders were to hold you back."

"Is Loki really dead?" Despite seeing him fall, Tony refused to believe that he was truly dead until he saw or heard viable proof.

"Thor seems to think so. Apparently, the spell Amora cast bound his powers. Given how weak he already was...

"Unfortunately, we weren't able to find a body."

"Weren't?" Tony asked sharply. "But you're still looking, right?"

Coulson shook his head. "That area was demolished in the explosion. If there's a body, there's not much left."

Tony grimaced at the images that brought up in his head.

"We're not giving up. But we have no team, and no leads. Finding him isn't our biggest priority. Finding the staff is."

Tony frowned, pushing the images of twisted, crumpled bodies out of his mind. "The staff broke."

Fury nodded. "But Thor is adamant that it can be fixed. And that's not something we want to see happen."


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** I am completely humbled by how well this fic is doing! Seriously, guys, thank you so much!

**Warnings for this chapter:** None

* * *

"Sebastian Malone?" a woman called out stiltedly, reading the name off a manila folder. A man, the only man in the room, stood and slowly walked over to her. The pace of his gait had little to do with the anxiety building in his chest, and more to do with the pain in his right hip when he moved. He kept his face blank, though, as if this procedure was just as routine for him as it was for her. And, who knew. Maybe it was.

The woman, a small plump thing with badly dyed blonde hair, gestured for him to follow, not seeming at all bothered by his slow pace. She led him down a hall way, passed small rooms and groups of cubicles. Nobody looked up as the woman and Sebastian passed by. They were all focused on their tasks, but it did not seem to be a focus made from passion, but rather a focus with the logic of "the sooner we get done, the sooner we can leave." It didn't seem like it was a job Sebastian was going to enjoy working at.

He wondered, briefly, if he would have taken this job if circumstances had been different. The thought poked harshly at a festering wound in his already exhausted psyche, and he quickly threw it out. He shouldn't be focusing on such things right now. That's what had cost him the last interview, and, as much as this job looked like it would suck, he needed it.

The woman led him to a private office, a good distance away from the smaller, open offices and clusters of cubicles. She smiled an obviously fake smile, and gestured for him to take a seat. "Mister Lewis will be in shortly. Feel free to make yourself comfortable." She gave another fake smile, and left, shutting the big wooden door behind her.

Sebastian took a deep breath. This was no good. Being left alone made him think of the Things That Should Not Be Thought Of, which made him uncomfortable and unhappy, and made it impossible for him to keep a level head during a job interview. He cast his eyes around the office, trying to find something to keep his attention off those thoughts while he waited.

The office was fairly plain. The furniture was all matching wood (oak, perhaps?). A wooden desk in the center of the room, right in front of Sebastian. There were no pictures on the desk. No trinkets, nick-knacks, nothing at all except a plain looking, black laptop.

To the right of the desk, pushed up against the wall, was a wooden book-case. The book-case held white binders, which were all labeled neatly on the side. 'Present Clients', 'Past Clients', 'Present Personnel', 'Past Personnel', 'Receipts.' Nothing personal or interesting there, all corporate business stuff.

Beside the desk and book-case, there were only two chairs in the room. Wooden as well, and padded. The pads were red, the exact same deep red as the walls. There were no pictures or plaques on the walls, either. Not even a clock.

The room had a sterile, impersonal feeling to it, and it made it hard for Sebastian to focus. He balled his hands into fists, placed them in his lap, and really hoped that Mister Lewis would not take very long in getting here.

For the first time in two weeks, it looked as if Fate were smiling down on Sebastian. As soon as the anxiety in his chest started to build, the door opened.

Much like his office, Mister Lewis was not a particularly remarkable man. He was balding, and had given up trying to comb-over his light brown hair. His eyes were a watery grey, his nose small and button-ish. His lips were thin and pale. His skin pale, but not to the extreme. He was average height, average build. Sebastian found himself wondering if he'd designed his office as a reflection of himself, or if this boring room had sucked all the life out of him.

"Mister Malone?" Lewis asked, extending a hand as Sebastian stood up.

"Yes," he said almost breathlessly as he grasped the man's hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Lewis nodded, letting go of his hand and walking around the desk. "Likewise." He sat down, gesturing for Sebastian to do the same, and plopped a manila folder in front of him and flipped it open. He glanced through it, giving no expression. After what seemed like hours (Sebastian kept focused by biting the inside of his cheek), he closed the folder and leaned back in his chair.

"Well," he said, "you've passed the drug test. You're healthy. As healthy as you can be after..." he cleared his throat. "You've passed the back-ground check. You're here, which means you have some method of transportation, and you can keep to a schedule."

Sebastian nodded, forcing a small smile on his face. Don't blow this. Don't blow this...

"When can you start?"

"I – Um. I can, I can start immediately." Sebastian was shocked. No questions? No interview?

Lewis nodded. "Good. One of our typists, Eleanor, is going on maternity leave on Monday. You can fill in for her, for now. You start on Monday." He stood and extended a hand again. "Congratulations and welcome to Traders Inc."

* * *

Sebastian boarded the bus, his head swimming. Was this real? This wasn't real, was it? Did he honestly have a job now?

He tottered down the isle, trying to keep in his own personal bubble and not break anyone elses. Luckily, the bus was fairly empty.

It was a short ride from Traders Inc to Sebastian's new apartment. By the time he stepped down onto concrete, he was feeling marginally happy, and was even allowing himself to smile. He had a job! He had a paycheck! His bills could get paid, his refrigerator could be stocked!

His grin grew, and he bounded into the apartment building, ignoring the door-man's amused look. He skipped the elevator, feeling way too energized, and took the stairs to the second floor. He unlocked his door (the first door on the left), tossed his keys unto the small table, and breathed a sigh of relief.

The explosion downtown had cost Sebastian everything. His home, his belongings, his job. But, most importantly, it had cost him his memories. He remembered nothing of the explosion, nor of the events leading up to it. His "first" memory had been waking up in a hospital, alone.

The doctor's had tried to find family when he'd been brought in, but their search had turned up nothing. When Sebastian awoke from his coma, they'd tried one more time, but this search had been just as fruitless as the lest. Sebastian had been forced into the idea that, if he even had any family or friends left, they did not care enough about him to come.

Like most of the victims in the explosion, Sebastian had been assigned a social worker to help him get back on his feet. Unfortunately, Sebastian had been severely injured in the blast, so many of the "hiring now jobs" (which consisted mainly of construction and other physical labors) were out of the question. She'd been trying to get him office jobs, but it seemed like every time he was in a building, Sebastian would have a panic attack. When the interview process would start, he'd start worrying about why no family had come for him. Needless to say, it left him in an emotional upheaval, and many employers turned him away without a second glance.

But not today.

Today, things were finally starting to look up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes:** So, I was proofing this chapter, and realized that some of the things I wrote don't coincide with the movie (since I wrote them before the movie came out). Some of the stuff was little and easily changed around, but some of it's major. I toyed around for a while with trying to make it fit in the Avengers!Movie verse, but it's way too complicated and, frankly, I'm way too lazy.

But, this does mean I get to declare my story officially spoiler free! :D

**Warnings for this chapter:** None

**Chapter Three**

The Avengers were assembled in the kitchen, looking a little worse for wear, a month later, for breakfast. Clint was in a wheel-chair, and he'd taken to chasing people down if they walked too slow. Bruce and Natasha looked perfectly fine. Steve's left wrist was wrapped in a pretty heafty bandage. Thor's damage was completely emotional; he'd withdrawn into himself, only speaking when necessary, and spending way too much time locked in his bedroom. Tony wondered if Fury had been talking about the god's emotional and mental state when he'd told Tony that Thor wasn't his best.

Tony himself still wasn't feeling at the top of his game. Beyond being utterly exhausted and sore, he'd been having nightmares. Nightmares that involved falling, broken bodies, breaking bones, and inhumane screams of pain. Sometimes the body belonged to one of his friends. On those nights, more often than not, the screams came from him. But, usually, the body was Loki's. On those nights, the screams belonged to Thor.

At first, he hadn't bothered with the nightmares. It was to be expected that he would dream of that day. It was a bad day all around, and those were the days that stuck with him in the night. But it was a month later, and the nightmares were happening every night. Almost every night, Tony was forced to relive watching Loki fall and break; to hear Thor scream...

'_It's because Loki is Thor's brother. It's because you hate seeing how torn up Thor is over this. It's because nobody deserves to go that way — stripped of everything, beaten down, and then, literally, tossed away to die painfully. Nobody, not even Loki, deserves that.'_

But there was always a little voice that cut across his internal monologue and whispered, '_It's because you feel guilty that you didn't do anything._'

Tony had never given much thought to how things would end for Loki. As a general rule, he'd tried not to think about Loki at all. When they were preparing to battle Loki, when they were battling Loki, when they were debriefing after battling Loki, everything was just 'one step at a time.' It was easier, less complicated. Made him feel less guilty about attacking his friend's brother who, really, wasn't so different than Tony himself. Loki was Tony if Tony hadn't had Rhodey, Pepper, and even Obadiah. Abandoned, broken, pushed away, misunderstood. Tony knew exactly how that felt.

But he'd never really thought about him dying, or being killed. Much like Thor and Fury, Loki had been so far out of the realm of 'human' that Tony wasn't even entirely sure he could die. At least, not by anything anyone on Earth could do.

It had been naive, of course. A child-like innocence. But it had made things simpler. And Tony enjoyed the simpler things. Ever since Loki had come into his life, things had been a mess, crazy and complicated. Technology could barely compete with Loki's magic, and the Iron Man suit could barely compete with Loki's shocking physical strength.

He glanced involuntarily over at Thor, who was gazing out the window absently, completely unaware of everyone around him. He looked older than Tony had ever seen him, and sadder. Even sadder than the first time Tony had met him – Thor had thought Loki dead then, too. He'd been so shocked to find out, not only was Loki alive, but he was here, right on Earth. Then, he'd been hurt to find out that the Big Evil Fury wanted them to stop had been his little brother. He'd refused to fight, at first, refused to hurt his little brother any more than he already had. He had even stopped others from hurting him.

Thor had held on strongly to the hope that Loki could change. That, maybe, if he apologized enough, Loki would stop and forgive him, and come home, and things could be the way they were. Maybe, if Thor explained his brother enough times, told stories, told them everything a million times, they would see that Loki really wasn't like this, that Thor had pushed him too far.

Tony felt an uncharacteristic surge of jealousy swell in him. Tony would have killed to have someone like Thor growing up. Someone who loved him, who wanted to spend time with him. Sure, Tony had Pepper and Rhodes _now_, but Loki had had Thor his whole life.

Did Loki ever realize that he hadn't had it so bad after all?


	4. Chapter 4

**Warnings for this chapter: **Some violence**  
**

**Chapter Four**

Sebastian punched the button on the elevator, head swimming and chest aching. It had been a long day at work, exacerbated by his pounded head and congested chest. He wasn't entirely sure what was wrong with him. At first, it had seemed like a cold. Common, easy enough to treat. As the days wore on, his cough got worse, to the point where it caused pain and took his breath away. He'd woken up this morning, dizzy and nauseous, and had actually debated about calling in sick. But the bills on the counter thought differently, and he'd dragged himself in to work.

He shivered as the elevator doors opened to his floor. Maybe he'd take tomorrow off.

* * *

The alarm clock rang shrilly, forcing Sebastian to open his eyes. He laid still for a while, gazing blearily at the red numbers. He still had a little over an hour to get ready, but his limbs felt heavy, and his eyes felt swollen and warm. An hour wasn't going to be enough.

He pulled himself up slowly, and sat still again as he waited for the dizziness to fade. This was no good. He couldn't go to work like this. He reached for his phone, only to have it ring in his hand. He didn't bother to look at the name. There weren't very many people that had his number.

"'lo?"

"Mister Malone?" a chipper voice sounded in his ear, making his teeth clench. "It's Susie, Marlene's daughter? I was just calling to remind you that your rent is due."

Sebastian closed his eyes. "Yes, I know. I get paid on Friday."

"Okay. We'll expect a check on Friday, then." And she hung up.

Sebastian groaned. As sweet as Susie sounded, he knew that she and her mother wouldn't tolerate a late payment. Technically, they weren't accepting rent payments on Fridays at all, but they were willing to waive that away for Sebastian's first payment, due to extenuating circumstances. He was almost positive that this check would cover the rent, but 'almost positive' wasn't going to keep him in his apartment.

He swung his legs off the bed, begrudging the explosion for the umpteenth time since he regained consciousness five weeks ago.

Forty minutes later, he stumbled out the door, face unwashed, belly unfilled. (Which, in retrospect, was probably a good thing. The nausea was back this morning, and eating before riding on a bus for ten minutes didn't seem like the best plan.) He stumbled into the elevator, punched some buttons and, after the third try, managed to even hit the right one. He stumbled out when the doors opened, and then stumbled out to the bus stop, leaning against glass that enclosed the benches, enjoying the feeling of the cool pane against his forehead.

He closed his eyes, thinking he'd just rest them while he waited for the bus to arrive. And, if he happened to fall asleep, he was positive that someone would wake him up.

It was not the feel of a stranger's hands on him that caused Sebastian to open his eyes; it was the familiar sound of an EKG machine beeping.

"What the hell?" he demanded, sitting up right. That was a bad idea. He instantly became light-headed and dizzy, and felt the I.V. in his arm tug painfully. His shout had brought the attention of a nurse.

"Good to see you're awake, Mister Malone," she said with a beam as she marched over to the machine to check his vitals. "Although, I must say, I was hoping we wouldn't have to see you again quite so soon."

"What happened? How long have I been here?"

"You fainted." She reached for his hand, frowning when he pulled away. She grabbed again, and this time he let her. She pulled the medical tape off his elbow, and proceeded to remove the I.V."You've had a slight case of bacterial pneumonia. Lucky we caught you when we did – it could have been much worse. You've only been here two days."

"My... My work –"

"– Claims hospitalizations as acceptable reasons to call off." She stared at him for a beat. "In all honesty, you seem perfectly healthy to me, Mister Malone. However, I don't have the authority to send you home. I'll go get a doctor."

The doctor seemed particularly uninterested in Sebastian's case. He went through the same procedure the nurse did, checked a couple of things on his chart, prescribed an anti-biotic and bed-rest, and sent him on his way.

Sebastian walked out of the hospital, feeling more than a little off balance. Physically he felt fine. Nausea, chest pain, dizziness; all gone. Even the pain in his hip had disappeared. But emotionally, he felt drained. This was the second hospital visit in as many months, and there was still no sign of his family.

_God_, he thought, looking down at the concrete as he walked, _what kind of person must I have been that no one in my family wants anything to do with me_?

He'd briefly entertained the idea that maybe they were dead, but he knew in his gut that that wasn't the case. His family was alive, somewhere. They just... didn't care.

Another factor adding to his distress was bills. Sure, his job paid him enough that he'd be able to pay his bills and rent, as long as he kept steady hours. But this made two hospital visits and medication. There was just no way he could financially keep afloat.

He bumped into someone's shoulder.

"Hey!" the man snarled. "Watch where you're going!"

"I'm sorry. It's my fault, I wasn't lookin-"

The man suddenly reached out, grabbing Sebastian by the front of his shirt and slamming him into the front of the nearest building.

"YOU!" The man's eyes were wild, pupils fully dilated, bugging out of his head. "You! How did you...? How are you...?" He slammed Sebastian against the wall again, causing black spots to dance in his vision.

"I don't... Who are you?"

Another slam. "More of your little tricks, eh? Nice try, but I know who you are." He gave a high, wild laugh and jerked his hands up to encircle Sebastian's throat.

"Haha! Still no magic, though! But, tell me, honestly, how did you survive?" Sebastian choked, and struggled to pry the man's hands away from his windpipe. "No matter, no matter. I'll just have to be more thorough this time."


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: **I know a lot of people are commenting on the length of the chapters. I'm sorry, they're short right now. The good news is, the chapters are only getting longer from here. To make it up, I'll post chapter five today and six on Monday.

Which brings me to my next point: Right now, I try and update about once a week. This gives me time to work on up-coming chapters, and edit the existing ones (as well as handle my life). Once the fic is completely written (I'm about half-way through), I'll update more frequently.

**Warnings for this chapter**: Violence, Mild Language

**Chapter Five**

The call came in in the early morning, way too early for Tony's taste. The alarm (sounded faithfully by JARVIS) rang shrilly, causing him to sit upright in bed. It may have been his imagination, but it seemed like the alarm was louder in his room than anywhere else in the house.

"What is it?"

"Doom, Sir. He's near the hospital. Apparently, he attacked a civilian."

Tony was out of bed instantly, dressing in record time and sprinting down into the living room. Fury, Thor and Steve were already gathered and suited up.

"Tony, you and Thor head out now. Everyone else will be right behind you." Tony nodded, not even questioning the order as he grabbed his briefcase. He and Thor could fly, which meant he and Thor could get there faster.

Within minutes, Tony was suited up, and he and Thor were in the air. It didn't take long for them to find Doom. A huge crowed had gathered around Doom and the man he was trying to kill. What was surprising was that there were people who were latched onto Doom, trying to stop the crazed maniac from beating the civilian to death. They weren't stopping him completely – Doom was far too large and strong, and, coupled with the rage and adrenaline, he was damn near unstoppable for a normal person to hold back – but they were slowing him down. Enough so that the person he was beating was managing to crawl away from his outstretched arms.

Tony and Thor landed with a _whump_, catching the attention of everyone. Doom instantly changed tactics when he saw them; instead of fighting to get to the man, he was fighting to get into the crowd, in an attempt to put a barricade between Iron Man and the God of Thunder.

But the people weren't having that, either. They held on fast and gathered together tightly. Again, it didn't stop him, but it did slow him down, and Thor wasted no time in grabbing him while Tony headed for the man.

He was badly beaten. His face didn't even look human, between the swelling, dirt, scratches, and blood. His arm was twisted at a grotesque angle, and his was panting. His shirt was torn, revealing red welts where it seemed like Doom had tried to claw his heart out. The sight was disturbing, but it raised a lot of questions. Why was Doom after him? And why had he chosen to try and literally beat him to death in a public place? Why not use magic? Why not kill him in his sleep?

He heard a roar from behind him, and turned to see Thor screaming at the sky. Doom was no where to be found.

"Guys," he said, knowing everyone back at base could hear him, "don't bother. Doom's slipped." He heard multiple curses, but he tuned it out. That issue was for another time. Right now, the man on the ground needed immediate medical attention in a secure location. "We're taking him back to base," he told Thor, gesturing to the man. Thor nodded absently, still glowering up at the sky.

Tony had known Thor for about almost a year now. He was a good guy, usually far more similar to a baby bear than any fierce warrior. But, Tony had also seen the God of Thunder in action. He'd seen first hand what that god was capable of, especially when he held that hammer. He did not envy Doom the fate that awaited him when Thor finally caught up with him.

He shook his head, turning his attention back to the man. He bent down, and slowly scooped the man up. He'd been as gentle as he could, be the man still let loose a cry of pain. Tony winced, and rose slowly into the air, carefully trying not to jostle him too much.

The fly back to base took longer, and by the time Tony and Thor had touched down, the man had lost consciousness.

Steve met them at the gate. The medi-team, already prepared, was seconds behind, and they took the man out of Tony's arms, rushing him back inside on a stretcher.

"What...?" Steve asked, concern and confusion evident on his features.

"I'm not sure. Doom lost it on that guy, and then he vanished."

Steve pursed his lips, but didn't say anything. Not that there really was much to say. Nothing about this made any sense.

The only clue they had was currently lying in a bed, being tended to by doctors.

Without saying a word, Tony, Steve, and Thor marched off into the base, where they were joined by Clint, Natasha, Banner, Maria, Coulson, and a few miscellaneous SHEILD agents who were eager to hear some news. Nobody spoke. They all just hunkered down to wait.

Fury walked into the main room hours later. His face was blank, and it was a few moments before he spoke.

"You are not going to believe this," he said, voice full of incredulous. "The man that you just brought in? It's Loki."


	6. Chapter 6

**Note**: I know FFnet is getting rid of smutty stories, but I've also heard people complaining that their stories were taken down because they have curse words in them or in the summary. That shouldn't be a problem for this story, but I thought I'd err on the side of caution. If this story (or any of my other stories) _is_ taken down, I'll still be posting it on my Tumblr. (Which is linked in my profile.)

**Warnings for this chapter**: None

* * *

Sebastian's eyes fluttered open, and he quickly shut them. Bright light, right above his face, burned his sensitive retinas. _What the hell_, he thought?

"You awake now?" a clipped, disembodied voice asked from somewhere on his left. "Good. Fury wants to talk to you." There was the sound of footsteps, and then silence.

Sebastian took the moment to glance around the room. The walls were grey – metal? – and empty. There were no windows, no pictures, nothing. There was a single, closed door, across the room, and Sebastian doubted he'd be able to sneak out of it without the man noticing.

He himself was laying in a narrow, uncomfortable bed. There was a single, white sheet, and a single white pillow. All together, the room looked like a prison.

_What_ the _hell_?

The door opened, more footsteps. Sebastian opened his eyes to find himself looking at a very large, dark man with an eye-patch. His mouth was set in a firm line and his arms, clad in a leather trench-coat, were crossed tightly.

He was a formidable looking man, and Sebastian felt a ball of apprehension in his stomach begin to grow.

"The gig is up," the man rumbled, fixing Sebastian with a cold stare.

Gig? "I-" Sebastian swallowed thickly. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

The man smiled, showing pearly white teeth. "Of course you don't." He uncrossed his arms, that dangerous smile widening, revealing more teeth.

"We can play this game all you want, Loki. You're our only link to Doom; you're not going anywhere until you tell us what you know."

Doom? Loki? What was this man talking about?

"Look, there's been a mistake. My name isn't Loki, it's -"

"Sebastian, yes, I've heard." The man pulled a manila folder from his coat. "Sebastian Malone, twenty eight years old, you work in an office on 5th Main Street, since the explosion downtown demolished the book store you worked at. You recently had pneumonia, and were in the hospital. After you were released, you were attacked and beaten into unconsciousness. You live alone, in a new apartment, and there's no record of any family."

"How-?" Sebastian's heart was pounding. Who were these people?

"You know how," the man responded, sounding bored. "Now, my question is; if you went through all this trouble to make a new identity, why not change your form? Seems an awful waste not to when so many people want you dead."

"Dea- Change my-? Look, I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. Just... Just let me go, alright? I won't press charges, I swear."

"You want us to let you go? Why? We're the only thing standing between you and Doom. If we let you go, we're not coming back the next time he goes after you."

The man. The man that attacked him outside the hospital. He must be the 'Doom' this man was talking about.

Sebastian swallowed. It was true that Doom would probably come after him again. And these people seemed to know a lot about him. "What do you want?"

The man shrugged, tucking the file back into his coat. "Just answers."

And so the circles began. Sebastian would insist he didn't know anything, and the man would insist he did, and that there was really no reason for 'Loki' to be playing this game, because they caught him and knew exactly who he was. Then Sebastian would insist they were wrong, and that he didn't know anything.

It seemed to go on for hours. The man hadn't been kidding when he'd said they could do this all day.

After a while, the other man in the room (Sebastian still hadn't caught either of their names), tugged on the taller man's arm, and whispered something in his ear. The taller man eyed Sebastian with his good eye, and then nodded.

"This game is getting old, Loki. We're not asking for much, and we're offering a lot. However, since you insist on playing this game, I'll see if the guys want to join in."

It was ominous sounding, that last sentence. Sebastian felt his heart bang in his chest as the two men exited the room, but there really wasn't anything he could do about it. He honestly didn't know anything.

A stunned silence followed Fury's words.

"What?" "How?" "That's not even possible!" "It's a trick!" Fury held up his hands at the onslaught of exclamations.

"I know this is shocking. I don't know how, I don't know why, but that man is Loki."

"I want to see him." Thor's voice was quite, but firm. "I do not care what he says, I –"

"He's not saying anything. He's claiming that he's not Loki, that he's a man named Sebastian."

"He's lying," Clint said.

"No," again, Thor spoke in that quiet voice. "I do not believe he is. At least, I believe that he honestly thinks he is a man named Sebatian."

Tony and Steve exchanged glances. There were a lot of things Thor didn't believe about Loki. "Thor..."

"You often wondered how Loki would disappear for days at a time, without anyone seeing him, yet still managed to know so much about the city and its goings on. This 'Sebastian' must have been a false identity that he was using. He probably has more, so that he can change shape and name and hide even more completely when need be.

"If he truly had his memories, which I do not believe he does, he would not have been walking around in public so carelessly, knowing that von Doom wanted him dead. My brother may be many things, but nonsensical was never one of them. "

Fury rubbed a hand over his chin, eying Thor speculatively. On the one hand, Loki suffering from memory loss made sense. Loki may not have been a good guy, but he was exceptionally smart, and walking around in public had been exceptionally stupid. On the other, Loki wasn't a good guy, and he was extremely powerful. He'd never had a good relationship with the Avengers, and Thor, with all his guilt about Loki, wouldn't see Loki's danger for what it was.

Loki wasn't leaving. Everyone knew that. He was too valuable to risk loosing, and too dangerous to let loose. (Tony personally felt that letting a god with magical powers who had no memory of said powers go was more dangerous than letting go of a god with memory of how to use those powers.)

The problem truly came in when deciding what to do with Loki while he was here. If he really didn't have any memory of his past, then keeping him locked up seemed almost cruel. But, if that was a lie, than letting Loki loose in the mansion seemed suicidal.

Thor, of course, had been all for letting Loki roam free. Fury had been steadfastly against that idea. Surprisingly, it was Bruce that ended up being the tie breaker. (And the peace-maker, as Tony was almost positive that Thor and Fury were going to come to blows.) He suggested letting Loki free, but setting boundaries, keeping certain parts of the mansion off limits. He also suggested never letting Loki be alone. It served two purposes, he argued: if Loki really did lose his memories, someone would always be there on the off chance Doom tried to attack him again and, if he didn't, someone would always be there to try and stop him from doing whatever scheme he had planned.

It wasn't perfect, by any means, but it was a solution that gave a little to both sides, and kept everyone as safe as they could be in this situation.


	7. Chapter 7

**Warnings: **None**  
**

**Chapter Seven**

"He didn't put up too much of a fight about wanting to stay," Clint said around a mouthful of sandwich.

It was a week later, lunch time, and Clint, Bruce, Natasha, Tony, and Steve were all huddled together in the kitchen. Thor was in some other room, having declared that _he_ would watch over Loki. Which was fine with everyone else.

Bruce rolled his eyes, and picked at some chips that were neatly stacked on his plate. Loki had not agreed to stay at the mansion easily. It had taken three days of arguing, several different bribes and threats, and two failed escape attempts before Loki had finally caved and agreed to stay. Clint, however, did not think that Loki's attempts were honest. It was a thought he had made exceptionally clear whenever he had the chance.

Bruce chewed thoughtfully for a moment, thinking of the best way to shut Clint up, probably. "Loki's not stupid; he obviously can't take Doom in a fight. Hiding out with the town's superheroes probably seemed like a wonderful idea."

Clint scowled, unable to come up with a retort (yet. Tony thought it was only a matter of time.). "So why is he lying about his identity?"

Tony tuned the conversation out. They'd been over this most of the week – constantly questioning why this, why that? They hadn't gotten any closer to an answer than when they started and, to be honest, after another night of nightmares, Tony was far too tired to care. Either way, they were all going to need to be on their guard.

When Sebastian had first woken up at the mansion, he'd thought Fury (as he'd come to find out) had been insane. Fury had thought he was Loki who (as he'd, again, come to find out) was an enemy of the Avengers. Loki had been a villain, and a super-one at that. He'd recently fallen (literally) from Asgard and had been in the process of trying to rule Earth when he'd been attacked and killed by two other super-villains. Or, rather, everyone had thought he'd been killed. But, apparently, he'd just had his magic bound and his memories removed.

It had been ridiculous. Insane. But Sebastian had run out of ideas and energy as to how to leave.

He'd been assigned a body-guard. A big brute of a man named Thor who seemed way too happy to see him. Apparently, Thor was under the impression that Sebastian was Loki as well, and eventually his memories would return and Sebastian would know that he was Loki, too. He also learned that Thor and Loki were brothers.

It was the most surreal week Sebastian had had since the accident. Everything and everyone had been turned suddenly upside down, inside out, and twisted to the point where he was seriously wondering if he hadn't lost his mind. How could he, Sebastian Malone, the man who worked at a trading office typing up papers, be a super-villain? A god? It just wasn't feasible.

Until Thor started talking about Loki – him. He knew about the scars on his lips, which were so faint that most people didn't even notice them. He knew about how he didn't get cold very easily, that he loved ice-cream after every meal (especially with fresh strawberries and bananas). He knew that he loved to sleep tucked up on his side, because he felt like his chest was being compressed if he lay on his back. He knew that he didn't like his music loud, or his sweets too bland. Thor knew intimate details about Sebastian, little things that only someone who grew up with him could possibly know.

It should have made him feel better. He had an identity now. He had a past, he'd lived. He had a brother that cared for him, that was ecstatic to see him alive. He should have been feeling happy.

He didn't.

If he was Loki, then all the things he'd thought about himself were true. He was a horrible person. People didn't like him. Hell, super heroes and villains alike hated him.

"He never talks. He keeps to himself in his room; Thor says he doesn't event talk to him, much."

This was Clint's new favorite game: Complaining About Loki. To hear Clint tell it, Loki was the most suspicious being in existence. The way he sipped his water was condescending; the way he held his fork was threatening; he talked too much; he avoided everyone too much; he spent too much time alone with Thor; he looked way too unhappy to be spending so much time with Thor. Everything Loki did was suspicious and indicative of some hair-brained scheme to kill them all.

Most of the Avengers ignored him. He was still in a wheel chair (although the doctor's were sure he'd be out in a few weeks), so he was limited in his stress relief. He couldn't train, couldn't work out, couldn't even shoot his arrows because Fury had threaten to kill him if he over-worked his back too much. The only thing Clint could do now was complain. And Loki was the easiest thing to complain about.

"It makes sense," Bruce said calmly for what seemed like the thousandth time. "Thor told him everything, but he still has no memory of his past. He was _told_ of all the things he did – he was probably shown as well. He went months thinking he was nobody, only to find out he's what most people consider a villain. It's got to be a shock. It only makes sense that he'd be uncomfortable around all of us."

This was Banner's new favorite game: Defending Loki. No one was entirely sure why. Maybe he'd believed all those stories that Thor had told. Maybe he'd felt the need to defend a powerless Loki in Thor's absence. Maybe he'd just felt the need to play Devils' Advocate.

Most of the time, Tony found himself siding with Bruce, although he tended to stay quite during Clint and Bruce's little game. Part of it, he knew, was the dreams. It was getting harder and harder to see Loki has this evil, horrible person when Tony watched him fall to his death every night.

Another factor was this 'new' Loki that was living with them. 'New' Loki was genuinely upset about his past. 'New' Loki wasn't trying to hurt people, or take over the world. 'New' Loki wasn't hurling spells, or buildings, or throwing people out windows. This 'new' Loki seemed a lot more like the Loki Thor used to tell stories about. Albeit, more quiet and reserved, but, as Bruce pointed out, he had just had a major identity shock.

It was confusing, frustrating. Tony was good at figuring out chemicals, robots, computers. Those followed a logical, precise, predictable pattern. But people? People were completely out of Tony's league. In a way, that scared him. Labeling Loki 'villain' had been easy. There wasn't a lot of room as far as figuring out how to react to him. But a shocked, upset, non-villainous Loki? A Loki who he, essentially, dreamed about every night? A Loki who was loved deeply by his brother? A Loki who could hurt, bleed, be regretful, and guilty, and repentant? The Loki that mirrored everything that Tony was, and things that he could have been? That wasn't so easy to label, and Tony felt wrong-footed when he tried to think about it.

He shook his head, blocking out the banter between Clint and Bruce. It was much better to just not think about it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"Ahh!"

Tony sat bolt-upright in bed, heart hammering, instantly ready to go. But he was greeted with silent stillness.

"JARVIS," he called.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Who screamed?"

"You did, Sir."

Tony felt his shoulders collapse as the adrenaline dissipated from his system. There was no danger. No one was mortally wounded – not anymore. It was just the nightmare. Again.

This was getting out of hand, he thought, flopping back onto the pillows. It had been months since that battle and, what was more, Loki was alive. With the exception of the memory loss, he was also perfectly fine. Tony shouldn't still be having nightmares.

'_The point isn't that he's alive_,' a voice whispered in the back of his mind. '_It's that you didn't even try to save him, even though you could have_.'

Most of the time, Tony ignored The Voice, or drowned it in alcohol. It was an irritating, harsh voice that plucked only at the painful parts of Tony's past. The weapons he'd once made; Yinsen's death; Obadiah's betrayal. Before the nightmares, it pulled at his relationship – and eventual break-up – with Pepper.

But since the break-up, Tony had cut down on the drinking (okay, the night Pepper left him he'd gotten completely smashed – he'd woken up to a disappointed Steve, and had stopped drinking so he didn't have to deal with those disgusted and disappointed blue eyes ever again), and since the battle, he'd stopped completely. The Voice only came at night. After the fight, Tony had been exhausted, and it had been fairly easy to just ignore it. But, now, it was coming back, and driving him crazy.

He rolled out of bed into a standing position. Enough was enough. He refused to feel guilty about things he had no reason to feel guilty for. He was Iron Man, damn it. He'd faced off against some of the worst scum on the Earth. He could defeat a little voice in his head. And, since he apparently couldn't do it alone, he would go to the only friend who had never disappointed him:

The whiskey bottle.

He marched off downstairs, determined to put an end to this. He didn't plan on getting drunk – just buzzed enough to shut The Voice up and get some sleep. He would just grab the bottle, and head back to his room. Nobody would know, and nobody would give him any grief over it.

Except, the kitchen wasn't empty. Loki, surprisingly, was sitting at the table, long fingers wrapped around a clear glass filled with amber liquid, frowning into space.

Damn, Tony thought, freezing in the doorway. He didn't think he'd be able to sneak past him. Would 'new' Loki tell anyone if he saw Tony drinking? Did 'new' Loki even know that it was a "problem" if Tony drank?

Before Tony could decide what he was going to do, Loki snapped back to himself. He looked around, seeming surprised to see Tony standing in the doorway.

"I just wanted a drink," Tony said lamely.

Loki extended a hand, sweeping it around himself vaguely. "You're welcome to it."

Tony gave a wane smile and headed for the liquor cabinet. "So," he drawled, in a poor attempt to cover the awkwardness, "do you do this a lot? Sit in the kitchen alone and drink?"

"Do you?"

"Aha. I wasn't planning on sitting in the kitchen."

"I see." Tony's back was to Loki as he poured his drink, so there was no visual confirmation, but it sounded as though Loki was amused. "The way I see it, however, is that alone is alone, regardless of what room you're in."

Tony failed to hide a smirk. "You may have a point." He paused, and the meandered over to the table. "You know, it's a little hypocritical to be scolding me about being alone. You haven't exactly been very social."

"Why should I be?" Loki asked lightly. "I was under the impression Thor was the only one of your group who liked me."

"Yeah, Thor," Tony said, just as lightly. "Nice guy. Not too bright, though."

Loki blinked, and surprise flickered over his features. Tony smirked and raised his glass at him. "G'night, Loki." And he walked out of the kitchen, feeling satisfied from some unknown reason.

* * *

The alcohol helped. Tony awoke the next morning, feeling more refreshed than he had in months. It was earlier than he would have liked, but there wasn't much choice in that; breakfast was served promptly at eight. If you came late, there wouldn't be breakfast, as Clint and Thor tended to eat everything on the table.

The group was quiet when Tony walked in, and it took him a minute to figure out why. At first, he thought it was Thor's presence, but quickly threw that idea away. Thor had come to breakfast often enough in the past few weeks that his appearance shouldn't have caused a stir.

"Man of Iron!" Thor greeted boisterously. "Good morning!"

"Morning, Thor," Tony replied, finally catching sight of what had caused the silence. "Morning, Loki." Loki inclined his head, but didn't speak. Thor beamed.

Breakfast passed relatively peacefully. Bruce made a wholehearted attempt to include Loki, which was noticeably appreciated by Thor. However, his attempts seemed to make the already uncomfortable Loki more uncomfortable, and Tony was forcibly reminded of Loki's comment from the night before. "_I was under the impression Thor was the only one of your group who could stand me_.

Steve and Natasha were polite, but reserved. Tony followed their lead, thinking this would attract the least amount of drama. Clint was polite as well, but there was an obvious bite to it. Having Loki, Thor, _and_ Bruce in front of him had taken some of the wind from Clint's sails, and seeing that Steve, Natasha, and Tony were more likely to side with Bruce and Thor had apparently made Clint rethink playing The Game this morning.

After breakfast, Tony felt wired. A decent sleep and food had peaked his energy levels. Sitting around doing nothing was _not_ an option. So, he headed down the the lab, planning on working on whatever projects he had left unfinished.

One of the stipulations Tony had had to moving into the mansion had been that his lab come with him. Considering this gave Bruce a place to play Mad Scientist in relative safety, Fury had been quick to agree. Although Tony had been dramatic about people who were not him touching and moving his stuff, S.H.I.E.L.D had done an extremely good job with being careful. All his tools and projects had made it in one piece.

He breezed through the door, and moseyed over to the computer, quickly logging in and pulling up the secured 'projects' folder. He flipped through the files quickly, barely glancing at what they were. That project involved too much thinking. This one didn't have enough thinking, and if his brain wasn't occupied, his mind would wander to subject best not thought about. This other project involved thinking and hand work, but it was very delicate and Tony felt too antsy to risk ruining what he'd already done.

After what seemed to be a life-time, he found a folder marked 'For a rainy day. Or a hangover.' He clicked it, and scanned his eyes over the document. Seemed promising. It wasn't particularly important, so he didn't have to finish it today. It was very hands on, but also required him to be focused and on his toes. He grinned as he sent the file to the big screen, and set to work.

It didn't take Tony long to get lost in his work. Within a half an hour, he was up to his elbows in grease and parts, completely unaware that there were other people on the planet, much less the building he was in.

In all honesty, he liked it this way. He'd tried the whole "relationship" thing, and it hadn't worked. Not just in the romantic sense – Happy and Rhodey were his closest, and oldest friends. As much as Rhodey had cared about Tony, Tony was not exactly first on his list of "important things." Rhodey had his own life, and if something came up when Tony needed him, Rhodey's life came first.

Which, really, is where this whole thing started. After a massive fight with Pepper, Tony had locked himself in his workshop with a bottle of whiskey, hating every part of himself, and had dialed up Rhodey. He mainly just needed someone to unload on, but Rhodey had other things going on, and had not been pleased by a phone call at three in the morning from a drunk Tony. He'd written off the call as a drunk-dial, and hung up.

Tony knew he'd been responsible for that. Cried "wolf!" too many times, or whatever the saying was. It only made sense that Rhodey wouldn't take the call seriously. Tony knew he had no right to be mad, but the rebuff stung all the same, and he hadn't spoken to Rhodey much since.

His break-up with Pepper put a dent in his relationship with Happy. Happy blamed Tony for the whole mess (which Tony thought was completely unfair, because it takes two people to make a relationship work, and two people to make it break the way theirs had), and had put a wall between them ever since. Honestly, Tony wasn't surprised – Happy usually backed Pepper in everything – but Tony was irked enough that he'd distanced himself from Happy as well.

Clint liked to joke that Tony only moved into the mansion because of Bruce. While Tony got along extremely well with Bruce ( was easily closest to Bruce) Bruce still liked his privacy, and Tony had no problem giving it to him. Although he'd never admit it out loud, the real reason Tony had moved into the mansion was because staying at his house _hurt_. Too many memories of too many people who had been hurt. He just... couldn't stay there any longer.

A soft knock jarred him from his thoughts, and he scowled. One of the stipulations of the S.H.I.E.L.D lab was that it was available to everyone at all times. Tony couldn't put his special security on the room – it was far too big a hazard if an emergency popped up. Most of the time, people left Tony alone when he was down in his lab, but interruptions still happened on a fairly frequent basis.

"Come in," he called out, expecting to see Clint or Steve (as they were the only ones who knocked). Instead, he found himself looking into a pair of uncomfortable green eyes. Tony raised his eye-brows in surprise.

"Bruce was looking for you," Loki said, not waiting for a verbal cue. The words came out rushed, as if he wanted to say his piece and then leave.

Tony grunted as he shifted his weight, half wondering why Bruce had sent _Loki_ of all people, and half wondering how easily this task would get done if he had a super-strong god to help him lift and hold. "What does he want?"

Loki shrugged. "He didn't say."

Tony eyed a piece of metal, calculating, and then said, "Hey, you know what, come here for a second."

"I beg pardon?"

"I need to solder this piece to the Iron Man suit, but I can't hold it and solder it correctly. Just come here and hold it." Normally, Dummy would be the one holding these things, but Dummy (and JARVIS for that matter) were currently getting their yearly, full upgrade. Dummy wasn't available.

It first seemed like Loki was going to say no, but, after a moment, a pair of boots appeared in Tony's vision. Tony glanced up at Loki's face. He looked a little wary, definitely uncomfortable, but not angry or affronted.

"What exactly are you doing?"

"Completely re-vamping the repulsors in the suit." He held up an oblong piece of metal. "This," he said, wiggling the tube, "is going to go here." He pointed at the lower arm section of the suit. He then passed a pair of thick gloves over to Loki to put on (just in case – he didn't need Loki going back to Thor with burned hands), and then handed him the tube. "Hold it right there. It'll just take a minute."

Once the soldering was done, Tony bent the arm this way and that, making sure the tube would stay and that it didn't hinder his movements at all.

"Repulsors?" Loki asked, curiosity evident in his voice.

"Mm hmm. They're concussive energy that shoots out."

"Ah." Loki didn't look like he'd understood that any better. "And they are necessary for your suit?"

"I s'pose you could say that." He caught Loki's confused look. "They're my main weapon."

"I see." Loki's long fingers trailed down the suit's arm, his expression impressed. "Thor tells me you've built all this yourself?"

Tony couldn't help it: something about _Loki_ being impressed with something he'd done made Tony stand just a little taller, made his chest puff out a little more. He'd impressed a trickster god. A god who used to spend a good majority of his time spinning Tony in circles, keeping him on his toes.

"Yep."

Loki looked as if he was going to respond, but something over Tony's shoulder stopped him, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. Tony turned to see what had caught his attention.

Bruce was standing in the door-way, half-in, half-out, looking extremely surprised to see the two of them.

And then Tony remembered that Bruce had sent Loki down for him, and neither one of them had come out of the lab.

"Oh, hey, yeah. We were just finishing up," Tony said, indicating him and Loki. "What was it you needed?"

Bruce glanced between the two of them, his eyebrows raised. "Nothing pressing. Although now dinner's done, so you should probably head up stairs if you want to eat." He glanced between them once last time, and then headed up stairs.

Loki brushed past him, giving him a small nod as he walked. Tony frowned slightly, curiosity peaked at Bruce's behavior, and followed closely behind.

* * *

Once again, Loki joined them for the meal. Although the atmosphere was considerably less tense, Tony felt more uncomfortable. Out of the lab, and surrounded by everyone else, the [i]why[/i] became more sharply focused. Why had Bruce sent _Loki_? Why had _Bruce_ sent Loki? Was it a strategic tactic? A way to say 'oh, look, he can be trusted'? Was it a way to test Tony, to see which side of the fence he was on: Clint's or his? Tony knew he was probably blowing this way out of proportion, and possibly even being paranoid, but the questions wouldn't stop buzzing around his head.

The little voice in his head pipped up with _It's because you weren't unhappy that Loki stayed to help. You know you actually enjoyed working with him. And you feel guilty, because you know you shouldn't enjoy things, least of all people's company. Especially not the company of a villain_.'


End file.
